


Mother Hen

by beastie_beauty



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: F/F, Gen, a bunch of random original characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-31
Updated: 2015-03-31
Packaged: 2018-03-20 14:22:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3653640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beastie_beauty/pseuds/beastie_beauty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miriam Fry is far from being as cold as the girls of the Griffith think her to be. Miriam Fry knows her girls and cares for them.</p><p>(aka the one where Miriam Fry isn’t the Dolores Umbridge of the Agent Carter fandom and ships Cartinelli)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mother Hen

 Miriam Fry had worked at the Griffith long enough to know the best places to hide men, the best ways to sneak them in and out discreetly. So much so that it now seemed absolutely impossible that any of the girls would manage to get one in her room - or at least not without her knowing about it.

 She had… lost… many girls who had thought themselves smarter than the others, and also knew that the friends these girls had made before being kicked out thought she was an old bat with no feelings, pity or empathy. Miriam didn’t mind, as she knew it was far from the truth, though she liked for her tenants to think her ruthless. Ah, if these girls had any idea how many men had visited the Griffith with it having no consequences for anyone…

 Miriam knew her girls and their habits perfectly well, better than if they were her own daughters. They were all different, it was a wonderful experience to get to know them, or rather some of them. (She would never admit it out loud, but there were always girls she was rather eager to catch doing something against the rules.)

 Miriam also had grown fond of some of the girls; Sarah Johns was always polite and proper despite her… appetite (Miriam had looked over that fact on more than one occasion), Alice Lombard, who was the most charming nurse and who liked to bake, and who often had a piece of pie or cake to give to Miriam, had recently gotten engaged but still wasn’t ready to get married, had helped her fiancé sneak in her room once.

 Then, there were girls like Angela Martinelli.

 Always chipper and cheerful, always something to say about something. Always at least one brother to go see her upstairs for her birthday. Miriam knew that her dearest Angela would never bring a man into her bed. Oh no! Because Ms. Martinelli didn’t need to hide any man to get a lover in her room. The poor girl thought she was discreet… she was far from being the first woman like that to stay at the Griffith, really.

 Margaret Carter was not much different, only more rebellious and bold - Miriam had heard about a “cousin” not so long ago. But her interactions with Ms. Martinelli had been enough for her to be sure Ms. Carter was not another Sarah Johns. Miriam hadn’t been certain at first, even with the glances and staring and the smiles, an Englishwoman as elegant as Ms. Carter didn’t seem like the kind to indulge in the company of the likes of Ms. Martinelli - so much so that Miriam had feared for poor Angela’s heart.

 It was the day Dorothy Underwood arrived, freshly from Iowa, that all her suspicions were confirmed. They had arrived after what was without a doubt a lovers’ quarrel. Lord, the jealousy in Ms. Martinelli’s voice and eyes had been too obvious the moment Ms. Underwood started to compliment Margaret’s accent.

 Not much time had passed when Miriam saw Angela and Margaret come back to the Griffith together. Neither seemed quite happy but it was better than seeing them being torn apart by a fight - about the man who drove Ms. Carter around, maybe?

 (It was that same day Miriam had the opportunity to finally hint at the fact she  _knew_.)

 Miriam leaned back in her chair before standing up. She had to make sure no man was trying to get out, or in, even though it was highly improbable at this time of the night. There was never really any problem at the first few floors, the third one though… It was a whole different story. With Angela, Margaret - and her pretentious cousin, God only knew what would happen to him if she found him trying to sneak out of a room that wasn’t Ms. Carter’s - and now Dorothy, who might have not been the kind to bring back men at the Griffith but definitely was the kind to attract them like light would moths.

 “Ms. Carter?” Miriam inquired, her tone strict.

 Margaret turned around to face her, her key held tightly between her fingers - there had been a brief deer in the headlight look on her face, almost brief enough for Miriam not to notice it. Almost.

 “Good evening, Ms. Fry!”

 At least Margaret was good at making her voice sound calm and relaxed.

 “It is past curfew, Ms. Carter. Why aren’t you in your room?”

 Miriam knew exactly why she wasn’t. She had seen her closing Angela’s door. Miriam knew Margaret knew. It was obvious. Lord, Miriam would smirk if she didn’t have the reputation of a completely stoic matron to preserve.

 “Angie wasn’t feeling well earlier. I wanted to make sure she was better now.”

 “Is she?”

 The answer came a second too late to be honest.

 “Oh, yes, she is. There’s nothing to worry about, really!” Margaret assured with a small smile.

 “You might want to consider buying violets for Ms. Martinelli,” Miriam simply said. “Good night, Ms. Carter.”

 She didn’t let Margaret time to add anything, and walked past her to resume her duty. The blush creeping on the Margaret’s face was one of the most gratifying sights ever. Oh, yes, Miriam Fry knew the girls who lived under the roof of the Griffith better than anyone else, and cared way more than they would expect her to.

 Seeing her girls happy was what made her days.


End file.
